


Consume

by arcadian_dream



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/F, Kink: female ejaculation, Multi, Smut, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-07
Updated: 2010-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 18:23:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadian_dream/pseuds/arcadian_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny has a question; Pansy and Luna endeavour to provide her with an answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consume

Ginny expels a satisfied moan from her lips as Pansy cups her cunt in the palm of her hand: warm and wet, she slowly strokes the outer lips. The closeness of the moment is intoxicating and Ginny; feeling exhausted and thoroughly debauched rolls onto her side. She inches closer still to Pansy and they lay, in silence, with limbs entwined.

In silence, that is, until Ginny speaks.

"Pansy," she says, but it is more of a question – a call to attention – than a statement.

"What is it, Gin?" Pansy doesn't reply so much as breathe the words against the pale, soft skin of Ginny's neck; they rest, collected in the curve between Ginny's bony shoulder and sharply defined chin.

"Have you ever -" Ginny pauses. She is unsure how exactly to phrase what it is that she wants to ask; to know. "Have you ever – you know -" She waves a hand indiscriminately, as though it will illuminate her meaning without her having to say the words.

"What?"

"Have you ever -"

"What; come?" Pansy says with a smirk. "I'd have thought that would be fairly apparent by now, Weasley."

"No not _come_ but, well, you know – like boys do."

"Ohhh," Pansy says, the realisation dawning on her. "No. Why?"

"Well … do you think girls can actually - _you know_?"

Pansy smiles; "I know they can," she says. "Millie did, once."

"Millie?"

"Yeah," Pansy says. "Millicent."

"Wait – you and – you and _Bulstrode_?" Ginny asks, in need of clarification: much to her chagrin – and contrary to the myriad excuses, justifications, and reasons she has been rehearsing ever since she and Pansy started this - _this_, whatever it is – Ginny finds that the mere mention of Pansy's sexual past fills her with an anxious envy.

"Wait -" Pansy says; her smirk has split into a fully-formed grin. "Wait – are you _jealous_?"

Ginny swallows. "No!" she retorts – much too hastily and passionately for what is intended to be an avowal of indifference.

"Oh, Ginny," Pansy says quietly; she presses her mouth to Ginny's collarbone, gently kissing the bare skin to stifle a giggle. Ginny shirks from the touch.

"Come on, Gin," Pansy continues, "You didn't honestly think I got this good without practice?"

Ginny rolls her eyes. "You're not _that_ good."

"Right," Pansy grins, "And you're not jealous."

"I'm not."

"Of course." Pansy buries her face in against Ginny's shoulder, laying a trail of kisses in a meandering line from collarbone to chin. "Besides," she whispers, "You've no need to be."

Ginny doesn't say anything; she emits a sound somewhere between a scoff and a grunt. "Anyway," she says, "So girls can, then?"

Pansy nods. "Why?"

Ginny shrugs. "Luna was saying so; I didn't know whether to believe her or not. She said – she said there's a – a potion. That can – help it along, I suppose."

"Ginny Weasley," Pansy says, her voice breathless with faux-shock, "Are you saying what it is that I think you're saying?"

Ginny furrows her brow; she turns from Pansy, unable to bear the smugness that has settled on her face. "I was just wondering," she says quietly before Pansy leans across and silences her questions with a long kiss.

 

*

 

"What are we doing here?" Ginny whines as Pansy tugs her along a deserted alley off of Hogsmeade's main street. It is the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term – and the first since Ginny and Pansy have – well, not _been together_, Ginny thinks, it's not quite _that_ but …

"Be quiet, will you?" Pansy hisses. "You don't want to get caught do you?"

"Of course not," Ginny retorts sharply, horrified at the very idea of someone – anyone – stumbling across she and Pansy in a compromising position.

The two round a corner and come to a stop outside a weathered door. The wood is warped and splintered and it sits, slightly askew, in the door frame.

Ginny raises an eyebrow. "What could there _possibly_ be for us to see here?" she asks, unimpressed.

Pansy presses a finger to her lips, bidding Ginny to be quiet. She knocks slowly, deliberately, on the door.

They wait.

Ginny folds her arms across her chest. "Pansy," she says, "I really don't see -"

_Knock-knock-knock_

"Ah," Pansy says. She shoots a satisfied smirk in Ginny's direction before heaving the door open and stepping inside.

Ginny follows and as her eyes adjust to the dimly lit surrounds, she realises that she and Pansy are standing alone (_Where did the knocking come from_, she wonders) in the centre of a dusty, disused room. There are tables set out against the far wall – they jut sporadically, like some imaginary coastline, impinging on the bare space around them. The walls are adorned with rickety shelves, stacked high with books and papers and glass jars of things Ginny cannot quite identify from this distance, in this darkness.

"Pansy," Ginny says as she continues to look about, "What is this?"

"A surprise," Pansy replies and, as though to muffle the questions she knows will soon spill forth from Ginny's lips, she advances on her and, with a force that belies her stature, she harries Ginny back against the door through which they have just entered and kisses her.

Ginny's questions still stumbling on her tongue, she returns Pansy's kiss. Closing her eyes, she succumbs to the determination of Pansy's mouth; to the touch of her searching fingers and the familiar ache between her legs.

"Pansy," Ginny whispers breathlessly as she clasps her hand to the back of Pansy's neck and pulls her ever closer. Pansy deepens the kiss in compliance with Ginny's urging when -

"Oh," a familiar, lilting voice says, "Hello."

_ "Luna,"_, Ginny hisses into Pansy's mouth. A blush so fierce that it matches her hair rises in Ginny's cheeks as she breaks the kiss and embarrassed, guilty, she thrusts Pansy from her.

"Luna," she repeats, "What – what are you doing here?"

"I invited her," Pansy says curtly. She smooths the front of her skirt and brushes past Ginny. She directs her attention to Luna: "Do you have it?"

Luna nods. "Of course." She swings a satchel from her shoulder onto the floor and, dropping to her knees, she rummages through its contents before extracting a small vial of a shimmering purple liquid.

"Here you are," Luna says. She offers the vial to Pansy as she gets to her feet.

Pansy's smile widens into a grin that, Ginny thinks, could be terrifying in the right circumstances.

Ginny approaches Pansy and Luna in the centre of the room. "Luna," she asks quietly, "What is that?"

"It's the potion," Pansy interjects before Luna can respond. "You know, that we were talking about a little while back. Turns out, Luna here is quite the dab hand at potions."

Luna nods; she blushes and Pansy steps forward to place a chaste kiss on her flushed cheek. "Thank you," she whispers.

"Pansy," Ginny begins, uncertain, "I didn't mean that I wanted to – not that I don't appreciate it Luna – it's just – is it even – does it really -"

Pansy looks at Luna, then at the vial in her hand; she gazes up at Ginny through dark, fluttering lashes: "Only one way to find out." Her eyes alight; Pansy uncorks the stopper in the vial.

"Open up," she says to Ginny. She holds the vial aloft, the dark purple potion glittering even in the low light.

Ginny looks from the vial, to Luna, and back again.

"It's alright, Ginny," Luna says, placing a reassuring hand on her forearm. "Go on."

Ginny swallows nervously. She takes a deep breath; she opens her mouth, and past her parted, waiting lips Pansy allows the potion to trickle over the lip of the vial and onto Ginny's tongue.

The potion fizzes; it almost seems to spark on Ginny's tongue.

She shrugs. "I don't feel any different," she says, almost disappointed.

"No," Luna says, "You won't. At least – not yet."

Ginny furrows her brow. "What do you mean, 'not yet?'"

"Well, you have to – you know …" Luna trails off and even as she does, Ginny isn't entirely sure that she does know.

"Show her," Pansy says. Her mouth is dry with anticipation; her voice hoarse. "Show her, Luna."

Without a word of explanation, Luna takes Ginny's hand in hers and leads her to one of the bare, disused tables. She inclines her head towards it: "Hop up," she says.

Ginny, her curiousity leading her as much as Luna, complies. Standing before Ginny, Luna hooks her fingers beneath the waistband of Ginny's trousers.

"Luna, what are you -?" Ginny asks; Luna pauses. Ginny's eyes dart from Luna to Pansy; who nods. "It's alright, Gin," she says soothingly as she joins Ginny and Luna at the table. She brushes the hair from Ginny's eyes.

"Relax."

"Alright," Ginny nods. "Alright," she repeats, indicating Luna.

Luna's fingers resume their work: she tugs Ginny's trousers, and then her knickers, over her slender, freckled thighs; past her knees and ankles before discarding them entirely.

Positioning herself between Ginny's now-bare legs, Luna gets to her knees. Placing a hand on each of Ginny's thighs, Luna eases Ginny's legs apart and runs her tongue, firm and flat, along the outer folds of Ginny's cunt.

As the warmth of Luna's mouth probes between her legs, Ginny's hips thrust and jerk sporadically at the touch: her sensitivity is immeasurably, achingly heightened. She lets out a startled gurgle as she realises the extent of the potion's effect.

"Pansy," she gasps, "Is this -?"

Grinning, Pansy nods. Deftly, she looses her skirt and allows it to fall to the floor. Clambering onto the table beside Ginny, she kneels; her crotch in close proximity to Ginny's face. With a moan, Pansy slips a hand into her knickers. With eager fingers, she seeks out her clit; she watches as Ginny writhes under Luna's touch.

Soon, the room is a cacophony of rasping breaths and bestial groans; a symphony punctuated by the insistent thrust of Pansy's fingers against her own flesh, and the devouring slurp of Luna's eager lips.

Ginny is shaking; her whole being is torn between a state of rigidity and trembling and she feels as though she will succumb at any moment; that her every nerve is alight and so, so close; close in a way that she has never been before.

She whimpers: desperate for release and wanting to prolong this divine pleasure as Luna envelops her; all warmth and tenderness where Pansy is hasty insistence and Ginny; Ginny wants only to be swallowed whole, consumed by the feeling, lost in it as the stars are lost to the dawn. She raises her hips and, bucking against Luna's mouth, Ginny can feel her whole body tense. She arches her back and with a cry that is somewhere between pleasure and pain Ginny approaches climax: her thighs fall open and her body twists and writhes and, with a force that she has never known before, she comes.

She _comes_; she ejaculates, a sudden gushing flows from between her legs, drenching Luna's lips and chin.

From above her, Ginny can hear Pansy curse in awe - _Fuck,_ she breathes as, thrusting her fingers fiercely inside herself, she brings herself to climax.

Exhausted, Ginny lies back; drunk on the heavy scent of sex that hangs in the air, her eyelids flutter closed; and the last thing she will recall is the sight of Pansy stumbling into Luna's arms, desperate to taste Ginny still warm on her skin.


End file.
